


Maybe This

by alwayseven



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-13
Updated: 2010-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:52:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwayseven/pseuds/alwayseven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah can't say it out loud, but he's pretty sure Luke is saving his life</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe This

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Nuke Big Bang 2010

It's a mess, this thing. Two kisses into an attempt at a relationship and it's in pieces, scattered around them like the aftermath of an explosion.

Noah's used to throwing up his hands. He's used to walking away when things look like they might get messy. He can't speak for Luke, but judging by the way they keep pushing each other away, he's pretty sure that's Luke's nature too.

Luke's in the kitchen at the farm house when Noah lets himself in through the porch. He hasn't been sleeping well, not since Luke's accident, and he's well aware how less-than-human he looks. He didn't even bother really getting dressed this morning before heading over, threw on a hoodie badly in need of a wash or at least some Febreeze, and smoothed his hands over his hair.

Luke's in a world of his own these days, trying to drown in his self pity and Noah's not that far behind him. The only thing keeping him together is Luke. Which is why he keeps coming over even when he knows what he'll get is a reception that's frosty at best. It's why he's stubbornly digging in his heels.

Despite the awkward tension that hangs in the air between them whenever they're in the same room, Luke's the first thing Noah thought about when he opened his eyes this morning. It's the way it's been for a while now, since before Noah could even admit to himself that maybe Luke was a little more than a guy he happened to work with.

Luke looks up when Noah comes into the kitchen. His hair is getting long, falls in his eyes with the movement and Noah feels something lift in him.

"Hi," he says, cautious and uneven. Worse than the tension is the uncertainty, not having any idea where they stand. It's been a month since the accident, three weeks since Luke admitted that, yes, he wanted Noah to be his boyfriend, two and a half since they so much as touched. Noah misses it with an ache, the way they touched each other those first few days after that second kiss when they were realizing that maybe this could really happen, the way Noah couldn't keep his hands to himself.

Now they're tentative with each other, as if walking in a minefield. It makes sense, given what they've been through. It doesn't make him hate it any less.

"Hi," Luke says. For once it's not flat. It's not joy or pleasure, but there's emotion in it, and Noah will gladly take that over the dejection he's been getting from Luke the last few weeks.

Luke wheels himself around the table, stops in front of Noah. Noah leans against the island, palms braced on the counter behind him.

"Everything okay today?" he asks, impersonal as if he's speaking to a stranger.

Luke regards him with unwavering appraisal. "I guess," he says finally.

Noah's at a loss then, exhausted all conversation possibilities and it depresses the hell out of him. They have a routine. Noah comes over, they make small talk, they spend a few hours ignoring the mess between them in favor of Luke's physical therapy and then Noah goes back to his tiny dorm room and spends the night thinking about Luke.

Not anymore. Not today. Noah woke up sweaty and disoriented this morning, hard and aching after a dream about Luke. He's had enough of this.

"Come on," he says, taking off through the kitchen towards the den, not bothering to wait for Luke.

He's on his knees in front of the shelves of movies when Luke rolls into the doorway.

"Noah," Luke says, "what are you doing?"

Noah's rifling through the selection of DVDs, looking for something mindless, light, something to take themselves out of their heads for more than two minutes.

Emma's collection seems to be mostly family-oriented classics so Noah pops _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang_ into the DVD player and turns towards Luke. "We're taking a break from physical therapy," he informs Luke, pushing the sleeves of his sweatshirt up his elbows and hovering over Luke. "This is a different kind."

Noah _needs_ this. He aches for Luke. He wants to just spend a couple of hours pretending things are okay between them, pretending they aren't exhausted and terrified.

Luke's looking at him with an expression Noah can't quite read. Noah ignores it and leans forward, arms coming around Luke's upper back to help him out of his chair.

He's not prepared for what it feels like, being this close to Luke again after weeks of keeping his distance. Physical therapy doesn't require physical closeness between them, mostly he gets Luke to work his legs. This feels like going straight for the deep end.

Luke smells familiar, like summers at the beach and citrus, fresh from a shower, his hair still damp against Noah's cheek. Noah exhales sharply. This is what's been missing, that rush of heat at being near Luke, at _getting_ to touch him and be with him. Noah's missed that more than he really understood.

Luke's hands are warm when they grip Noah's forearms. He looks a little startled, unsure. Noah's never helped him out of his chair before, and somehow it seems painfully intimate.

"Lean your weight on me," Noah whispers, "I've got you." He feels Luke take a steadying breath, and he straightens up with his arms around Luke.

Luke's arms come up around Noah's waist, clutching at him wildly, uncertain. "Noah, wait," he mumbles and Noah can tell he's nervous, face flushed.

"Do you trust me?" Noah ask, before he can think better of it. He doesn't know if he wants to know the answer to that.

But Luke doesn't hesitate. "Yes," he whispers and Noah feels the way his pulse is fluttering, the race of his own heart obvious from the way he's got Luke pressed against him.

Noah takes most of Luke's weight and together they manage to get Luke situated on the sofa.

"Let me," Noah says, getting down on his knees in front of Luke, raising first one, then the other, propping his legs up on the coffee table.

Noah grabs the remote and sits on the couch, not beside Luke, but not on the opposite end, either.

It takes Noah a second to realize, through the opening credits, that Luke's looking at him.

"What?" Noah asks.

Luke's cheeks are pink. Noah's struck again by how beautiful Luke is, by how alive being with him has made Noah feel when he didn't realize this was what had been missing before when he was still lying to himself and pretending he could be straight.

"Thank you," Luke says and he sounds uncertain, something Noah's not used to hearing from Luke. Luke is very rarely anything but sure.

"I didn't do anything," Noah says because if anything, he should be thanking Luke. He doesn't think he can say it out loud, but he's pretty sure Luke is saving his life.

"You do," Luke insists, trying to shift around so he's facing Noah. "You do, when you come over even when you haven't slept or aren't feeling well, when you try to distract me. Noah," Luke says his name with a kind of desperation and that's something Noah understands, something he's felt with Luke. Desperate, needy, _wanting_. That's what Luke brings out of him.

Luke reaches out across the space between them, fumbles for Noah's wrist. "Noah," he whispers. "Just, come sit with me."

He says it like it's a beginning, some place to start from. Noah feels his heart in his throat, his skin burning where Luke's touching him.

Noah slides across the sofa cushions until he's sitting next to Luke, thighs just barely touching. Luke turns back towards the television, burrows just slightly against Noah. Noah's not sure but he thinks maybe Luke sighs.

On screen, the kids are playing in the beat up old car, and Noah feels a smile start somewhere in his chest. For the first time since everything got messed up, he thinks maybe everything's alright.

Luke falls asleep at some point, his cheek against Noah's shoulder. Noah reaches for the remote to thumb down the volume. He lifts his arm where it's going numb and Luke settles in underneath.

Noah spends most of the rest of the movie staring down at Luke, at the way the lines and the tension melt away, the slope of his cheek, the shape of his jaw. The peace on his face.

The exhaustion starts to register and settle and Noah feels himself slipping into sleep, the pleasant weight of Luke against him.

He's warm, slightly sweaty when he opens his eyes. His cheek's pressed against Luke's head, his hair against his skin. He sits up slowly, a tension in his neck from the angle and he realizes Luke's awake.

Self-conscious, he sits up, face flushed. "Sorry," Noah says, his voice hoarse and his mouth cottony from sleep. His cheeks feel warm, his t-shirt damp with sweat at his back, but there's this slow, pleasant heat spreading through him at waking up like this, despite the crick in his neck.

The movie menu is playing on a silent loop, the clock on the DVD player blinking that it's late afternoon, almost five.

"Stay for dinner," Luke mumbles sleepily, fingers curling around Noah's wrist to still him, just in case Noah was going to get up. It's not necessary. Noah thinks he'd do anything Luke asked of him in that sleep rough voice, eyes gone soft at the corners, hair mussed and in his eyes. He's beautiful and Noah's throat feels tight with it, with how gorgeous Luke is, especially now with his defenses down and the vulnerability that comes with having just woken up.

It's been weeks, more than a month, since the last time they kissed. Noah misses it. They never even got to the point where it was anything but new and exhilarating, an unknown. He can't wait until they get past this, until kissing Luke is as normal and everyday as breathing, just another extension of himself and his life.

This feeling of being unsure makes Noah uncomfortable.

Noah gives in then, puts an end to the hundreds of thoughts running haphazardly and out of control through his head and just does what he feels, what feels _right_.

Luke looks startled but he relaxes visibly when Noah touches his jaw, curves his hand to the shape of Luke and brings them together, his mouth dry underneath Noah's.

"Noah," Luke breathes before Noah's pushing forward to deepen the kiss, make it real and full of everything he's been feeling, everything Luke brings out of him.

Luke makes a sweet sound somewhere between _please_ and _yes_ and falls into it, lips parting for Noah.

Noah has only two previous kisses with Luke to compare this to and there's just no way, not when it feels like this, like something he's been waiting for, needing like he needs air to breathe.

Luke is tentative at first, touching the tips of his fingers to Noah's neck, curling a little. Noah feels it when Luke lets go, when the kiss changes from caution to no holds barred, when Luke opens his mouth for a ragged breath and dissolves against Noah, clutching at him and huffing in air when he can get it.

They're alone, the house this empty, quiet presence that makes it painfully clear there's no one to stop them from this, no reason not to keep going.

Noah slides his fingers into Luke's hair and that's like setting off a chain reaction, Luke making a low, rough sound somewhere in the back of his throat that sends heat spiraling through Noah, pushing him to get closer to Luke, to touch as much of him as he can, get as much of Luke for himself as Luke is willing to give.

Noah doesn't lose control, ever. Drummed into his head from the beginning, he holds himself tightly in balance, temper and feelings reigned in because that's what a real man does.

Noah doesn't care anything about that now, he _wants_ to lose control, to let go and just feel for once, really feel Luke, remember the way Luke's fingers feel on his skin, the way his mouth tastes, the smell of his skin when Noah moves a millimeter to the side to catch his breath.

"Noah," Luke says finally, this ragged warning signal that Noah finds himself needing. He's not capable of being the responsible one at this moment, of putting the brakes on something he doesn't want to slow down.

But this is Luke, this is important.

Noah's nodding as he pulls away, breathing heavy but trying to regain some balance.

Luke's clutching at Noah's hand. Luke presses a kiss to Noah's palm and it's sincere, sweet as hell and does nothing for Noah's resolve to get control of the reigns.

"Do you um," Noah says, his voice hoarse, wrecked, "do you want me to go?"

Luke frowns, shaking his head, and reaches for Noah's hand, fitting their fingers together. "Never," he mumbles, tumbling forward to press his forehead to Noah's shoulder.

Noah closes his eyes and breathes in.

"Okay," he agrees.

 

*

 

Noah's fight or flight instinct tends to lean towards flight. It's the reason for the distance, the only excuse he has for staying away when Luke was in the hospital, for the tension between them that seems to be slowly dissolving.

He's not good with feelings. He has his father to thank for that and now, in the short span of a couple of months, he's been forced to face that part of himself, the reflex that sends him running from emotions that terrify the hell out of him.

On paper, in Noah's logic, he and Luke make no sense. Noah has always been methodical, organized, think and then act. Luke, in most respects, is the opposite. Luke makes decisions based not on what his head says but on what his heart tells him. He's fearless that way, willing to trust in himself and his instincts, his _feelings_ in a way Noah doesn't think he'll ever be able to.

It's one of the most compelling things about him.

Here, during a noisy, chaotic dinner in Emma Snyder's farmhouse kitchen, Noah understands the reasons for Luke being the way he is.

This love is the unconditional kind. Parents who tell Luke on a daily basis how loved he is, that it's okay for Luke to be exactly who he is.

Noah envies that, of course he does, but mostly what he feels now is a kind of gratitude because he can feel himself slipping more and more into love with Luke and he feels, if he can find the courage to let himself, there's a safe place to fall awaiting him.

Noah and Luke are elbow to elbow at the table, hardly any room with Luke's siblings and his parents and Luke's Grandma. The energy here makes Noah want to stay. There's a bit of an ache, a regret that he didn't have any of this, but a warmth too, that he gets to be a part of it now and then, thanks to Luke.

Luke is quiet, but smiling at the clammer for attention between his sisters.

Noah leans in close to ask him how he's feeling. He smells like freshly washed linen, like soap and something homemade, cinnamon and cloves. Noah closes his eyes for a brief second, just to gather himself. It's been an exhausting month and he feels like every day is a marathon. Not here though, not with Luke and his family.

Being with Luke like this feels like coming home.

It's been a weird day. Noah feels turned inside out, wires exposed for prying eyes. He feels like the shift between himself and Luke has left him breathless, panting with exertion and standing precariously on shifting rubble.

Noah's staring at Luke, he realizes all at once when Luke looks up from his plate and catches Noah's gaze with a startled, slow smile. Noah can't help it. Even after what happened, what Noah's own father put Luke through, there's this light in Luke and he's _beautiful_.

"Sorry," Noah mumbles, his face flushed hot. He tries to smile, a sheepish half smile, but it gets lodged in his chest.

Luke's eyes go soft at the corners. "Noah," he whispers, just for him. He touches Noah's wrist, tentative. They're still in this place where touching feels like it needs permission, both of them unsure what is and isn't okay. Noah turns his palm up, acquiescence should Luke need it, and Luke tilts his head and touches Noah's hand with his fingertips, gentle, searching.

Noah's ears are red, the back of his neck hot, and he can't bring himself to pull his hand away or focus on what's going on around the table. Luke touching him like this, oddly intimate even surrounded by Luke's family, makes Noah feel a little unbalanced, makes him feel vulnerable.

Luke curls his hand around Noah's, thumb pressing against his palm, and Noah has no idea what he's doing until, oh, nothing. They sit there like that, hands tucked together, fingers locked, holding hands.

Noah feels a little embarrassed, exposed, but no one says anything, though Lily's eyes get a little watery and Holden looks like he swallowed a chicken bone.

Noah has never been good at _this_. He's good with family, with parents and making the right impression - the girls he's dated were always good, respectable girls with parents who wanted a good, respectable boy for their daughter. Noah knows how to do that, to be that guy. But _this_ , the quiet displays of affection, this has never come naturally for him. It feels right with Luke, and that terrifies him beyond belief.

The thing of it is, though, when he's nervous or freaked out, Luke is this anchor that pulls him back through it.

"Hey," Luke says quietly. He's watching Noah, eyes soft and a little sleepy. "Are you okay? You're quiet."

Noah tightens his hand around Luke's, reassuring. Everything is fragile these days between them and he feels them both treading carefully. But he can feel it getting easier, he feels the gradual shift as they learn to read each other. Noah's getting comfortable with Luke, getting so it feels natural, and less like a time bomb waiting to go off.

They've both been so volatile lately, exhausted and stressed beyond their limits, both of them wanting to go back to before, when Noah didn't know the truth and Luke wasn't bound to a stupid chair.

But then there are days like today, moments like this one, when Noah can see how it's going to be, when they get through this. It's going to be amazing and Noah finds himself reveling in the anticipation.

"Yeah," Noah says, resisting the urge to kiss Luke's cheek. Baby steps. "I'm okay. It's been a long day."

Luke shifts a little closer so Noah can hear him. "A good day, though," he says, the slightest hint of a question at the end.

Noah doesn't hesitate. "A good day," he says. And there it is again, that breathless, roller coaster swoop in the pit of his stomach when Luke smiles at him, like he just can't help it. Noah has never been on the receiving end of that kind of sunshine. He's going to do something stupid, he can feel it coming and he stands up abruptly, chair scraping against the kitchen tile loudly.

"Excuse me for a second, please," he says to Emma.

Luke's watching him, concern in his eyes and Noah tries a smile that feels a little wobbly.

The bathroom at the back of the house is quiet. There are windows along the old, narrow hallway, throwing the house in starlight and shadow. Noah just needs a second to push everything back together, not so close to the surface.

Noah hears Luke coming before he sees him in the darkness, the creak of his wheelchair on the old floor boards.

"Noah," Luke says. "What - are you okay?" He sounds alarmed, and that's not what Noah wants.

"Luke," Noah whispers, touching Luke's shoulder. "I'm okay. I just." He pauses, trying to find words that won't terrify Luke. "I just needed to catch my breath," he says finally.

"Oh," Luke says, tilting his head back, appraising. "Okay." He pauses for a second and then he's reaching down to push back the leg braces on his chair, gripping his leg and setting it on the floor.

"Luke, what are you doing, stop," Noah says, confused.

"I just want to," Luke's mumbling and he's struggling to get to his feet, clumsy and awkward but with all the determination Noah's ever seen in him. He's hunched, unsure, on legs he doesn't know will support him.

He has his hands braced on the arms of his chair as he uses his upper body to maneuver to as much of a standing position as he can.

Noah automatically moves closer, ready to brace Luke should he need it, unable to just watch.

Luke's breathing hard, exerted from the effort of using muscles that see maybe two hours of use on a daily basis, in therapy.

"Just. Noah, just let me," Luke whispers, and he pulls Noah towards him, fingers in Noah's shirt.

Luke's family is a family of huggers. Noah knows firsthand, from Lily and Faith and Natalie, and on occasion, Luke's Grandma. But physical contact has never come easy for him - his father never touched him unless it was to discipline - and it takes a little bit of effort to give into it, has taken Luke in his life to begin to come to terms with the way it feels to let someone in.

But Noah loves the way Luke hugs him. He does it, even now, with his whole body, like it's second nature to wrap himself up in Noah and just breathe into it.

And it's like breaking through, loosening up something inside of him as Luke braces himself with one hand on the doorframe and wraps his arm around Noah's back.

Noah goes into it, arms around Luke's waist. He feels Luke relax, Noah's support enough to let go.

Noah hides his face in Luke's shoulder, smiles slightly when he feels them both exhale on shaky breaths.

They haven't done this since that stupid camping trip, laughing with their heads bent together and sneaking through the trees to wrap themselves around each other away from Noah's dad.

It's familiar and new all at once. Luke's upper body feels only slightly different now, the shape of his back, muscles from having to support his weight newly defined. Noah has never hugged anyone like this, with his entire self. He can feel everywhere they're pressed together, their thighs and bellies, the beat of Luke's heart through their clothing. He closes his eyes.

Luke shifts, sagging a little and Noah pulls back, alarmed.

"Luke," Noah says, "are you okay?" He keeps an arm around Luke's waist in case, because Luke's legs aren't used to being used this much.

Luke's eyes are bright even in the darkness. "I missed this so much," he whispers. He reaches up, touches Noah's jaw with fingers a little less tentative. "I don't mind the rest of it, not as much, but this," he gestures between the two of them, "I hate that I can't do this."

Noah's voice is caught somewhere in his throat and his "yeah," is more just a movement of lips and less sound.

Noah tightens his hold. He's missed this too, maybe most of all. Like this, he feels like he's on solid ground, like nothing could shake him. It's Luke's doing, the feel of them wrapped up in each other. He feels Luke take a breath to step back.

"We should get back," Luke says with a rueful smile. "My dad's going to come looking for us."

Noah makes a face. He'd be content to stay here like this forever. But, a confrontation with Holden is the last thing he wants. "Okay," he agrees quietly.

Noah helps Luke back into his chair and when he moves to stand back up, Luke catches him, fingers in Noah's hair gently holding him still. Luke cups Noah's face between his palms, fingers mapping the shape of Noah's skin for a second.

Luke tilts his chin and kisses him, his lips slightly parted. Noah braces his weight on the back of Luke's chair and leans into it. He feels it deep in his chest.

Dinner is mostly over when they come back but the noise settles a little when they come into the kitchen.

Luke gets into a discussion about ice cream flavors with the girls and Noah watches him, wondering how this became is life, what he did to get this lucky.   
Desert is about to be served when Lily comes up behind him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. He shifts in his seat to look up.

"Noah, honey," she says quietly, bending so her words are just for Noah, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah, Mrs. Snyder," he says, smiling slightly. "Everything's fine."

 

*

 

The air is cool, the breeze crisp, when they step outside after pie and ice cream. Noah's supposed to be heading home, he has classes tomorrow, neglected homework to finish and sleep to catch up on. He has some semblance of a life that needs attention waiting for him.

Only Noah doesn't want to leave.

He feels like a weight has been lifted, like he can breathe a little easier. Something has shifted between him and Luke and Noah feels a kind of optimism, like light on the inside.

Noah likes it here, at the Snyder farm. He loves Luke's brother and sisters, dinners with Luke's family, Emma's cooking. Mostly, though, he wants to stay with Luke for as long as he can. He doesn't want to say goodnight.

Noah pulls his coat a little tighter around himself and sits down on the bench, stalling for time.

In the past month there have been confrontations between himself and Luke when Noah couldn't wait to put some distance between the two of them. Now all he wants is to spend what time he can as close to Luke as he can get.

Luke lets the screen door close with a bang behind him and rolls towards Noah, an uncertain smile curving his lips. This is rare, a tentative Luke. Noah likes it, finds it oddly endearing and at odds with the way Luke usually is.

"Thanks for today, Noah," Luke says quietly, his face shifting to something a little less tentative. His eyes are serious, like this is important.

But that's not right. Noah should be thanking Luke, because he feels different, new. He feels hope for the first time in the last month, like things are going to be okay. And that's Luke's doing.

"Luke," Noah mumbles, his voice caught. He reaches for Luke's hand. Luke's fingers are cold when Noah fits their hands together. He stares down at their interlocked fingers, trying to steady his voice. He's no good at talking, at words, not like Luke. He doesn't want to ruin this.

"Thank you for _everything_ ," he breathes, looking up. When he met Luke, Noah felt like he was coming alive for the first time in his eighteen years. Like living in darkness and learning what light is like.

He doesn't know how to say those words aloud to Luke, how to let himself be that honest. So he does what feels like the right thing to do in this moment.

He tugs on their joined hands, braces the other on the arm of Luke's chair. "Come here," he whispers, gripping the chair and pulling it forward until their knees are touching, as close as they can get like this.

"Oh," Luke says, adorably flustered, eyes going wide. His lips are pink, wet from the way he licks them when he's nervous. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, his eyes bright with emotion. He's stunning. Noah feels breathless looking at him, being near him, touching him. He wants to kiss Luke over and over until nothing else matters, until they're both shaking with it.

He leans forward slowly, the intent clear, just in case Luke doesn't want to be kissed right now, time enough for Luke to say no if that's what he wants.

But Luke goes with it, leans forward to pull Noah in with fingers in Noah's hair, lips slightly parted and ready when Noah's mouth touches his. Noah's breath catches at that first brush of lips.

Luke tastes sweet. Vanilla on his lips and tongue, cool from the ice cream. Noah groans, shaky and barely controlled, and opens his mouth to get more.

It's an electric current between them, both of them reacting at once, surging into it. The intensity in this, between them, is thrilling and overwhelming, frightening as hell. Noah hopes it never ends.

There is nothing tentative in the way Luke kisses him. Luke told him once that Noah was his first kiss and for Luke to kiss him like this, fearless in it, is exhilarating. Luke doesn't hold anything back, he kisses Noah like he knows what he wants and he has no problem going for it.

Noah thinks he could learn a thing or two from Luke's single-minded determination. Right now what he wants to learn is the things that make Luke moan and clutch harder at Noah, the things that turn him on.

This is probably not the time or place for it but Noah's having trouble remembering why.   
Luke tears away to pull air into his lungs and Noah tries to steady his own breathing, lets his forehead rest against Luke's for a beat before they're fitting their mouths together again.

"Noah," Luke breathes into Noah's mouth, gripping Noah's shoulders.

Noah pulls his hand away from Luke's only to slide up and cup his jaw, press them closer together. Someday soon they're going to do this without the barrier of a wheel chair, without a barrier of any kind, but for now this is enough.

There are adults in the house who probably won't be thrilled if they find Luke and Noah making out in the shadows, but Noah's finding it difficult to care about anything but Luke.

It's maybe not the best time, or all that appropriate, but Noah's hard in his jeans, aching with it. It's kind of reassuring, actually. With the stress and exhaustion of the last month, aside from the sweaty dreams at night, Noah was starting to think he'd lost his sex drive.

He's grateful now that there's the distance between himself and Luke, just their knees touching below the waist. He doesn't think either of them are really ready for that. Wanting, yes. Noah _wants_ everything with Luke. But there'll be time enough for that.

Luke makes a little noise like a groan and he tears away, a wide, surprised grin on his face. It's ecstatic, and excitement, and Noah's a little confused.

Luke's face goes pink, flushed with embarrassment when Noah asks. Luke's grinning so big his eyes are crinkled with it and he's laughing and shaking his head.

"I just - um," Luke says, hiding his face in Noah's shoulder and waving his hand vaguely towards his legs. Luke's breathing hard, breath hot against Noah's skin.

"I'm not broken," he feels Luke mumble around a laugh. There's a beat of confusion and then _oh_ , Noah gets it, sudden and sure.

And that revelation, that Luke's hard and for Noah, that's fuel to a fire and that didn't need any help. They fall back into it, both of them laughing and grinning.

"Noah, God, I've missed you," Luke says, pulling back. He cups Noah's face between his hands, leans forward until their foreheads are pressed together.

They break apart sudden and guilty when the porch light flashes on.

"Shit," Luke mutters, pulling away.

Noah pulls his shirt down over his jeans and puts enough of a distance between the two of them that it doesn't look like they were doing what they were doing.

The screen door opens and Holden steps out.

Holden is a good guy, Noah likes him a lot, but he can be terrifying, especially when he's concerned about his son.

"Sorry to interrupt, guys, but it's getting late," Holden says. He has this set to his jaw that Noah has seen in Luke which is kind of adorable given Holden and Luke aren't biologically related.

"Oh, uh. Yes sir, sorry," Noah says, standing up abruptly. "I was just going."

"Hang on, Noah," Holden says, letting the door shut behind him. "Why don't you stay here tonight? Lily and I were just talking about it, there's an extra bed in the den you're welcome to use. No sense in having you drive back to town at this hour."

Noah is willing to bet this was Lily's idea. Holden all but choked trying to get the words out, Noah knows better.

The idea of spending the night here with Luke just a room away is impossible to say not to, despite the way Holden's watching him as if Noah is someone not to be trusted.

He tries to keep voice even when he says, "yes sir, thank you, I'd like that."

He looks over at Luke who's staring down at his hands, trying to hide his smile.

Holden claps Luke on the back, startling him. "Why don't you come in out of the chill. Mama's upstairs getting Luke's room ready."

Holden is about as subtle as neon but Noah appreciates his attempt at civility. Holden holds the door open for Luke and Noah, stands aside to let them back into the kitchen like he doesn't trust them to keep their hands to himself.

Given what Luke and Noah were doing minutes ago, Noah can't really blame him.

They stand awkwardly in the kitchen until Holden clears his throat. "Well, I guess I better head to bed, have to be up early." He pauses with his hand on the door to the stairs. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Dad," Luke says with a small smile.

"Night, Mr. Snyder," Noah mumbles, trying unsuccessfully to look Holden in the eyes.

Holden pauses for a beat. Behind him, up the stairs, Noah can hear Lily calling for him. "Okay. Well, goodnight then," he says and heads, almost reluctantly, up the stairs.

"Oh my God," Luke breathes, when the door's closed again and Noah doesn't feel like he's before a firing squad.

"Yeah," Noah says weakly.

"This is really nice of your parents to trust us like this," Noah mumbles as they head for the back of the house and the guest rooms. Because down here, in this corner of the house, it's quiet enough to present the illusion of being alone.

Noah's walking behind Luke as he wheels himself down the hall. He can't resist touching, though, one hand on Luke's shoulder as he follows.

Luke lets out a little laugh. "Are you kidding? Dad doesn't trust us. My mom probably talked him into it."

Luke stops in a doorway and turns the light on. There's a double bed in the corner with an old pair of sweats and a t-shirt laid out for Noah. "Here's where you'll sleep," Luke says, a little awkwardly.   
 "Okay. Thanks," Noah mumbles.

They turn towards each other almost automatically. Noah bends down and Luke's surging up, their mouths connecting. There's that same heat, that sizzle of electricity underneath. Noah groans and pushes into it, Luke reaches up to curl his fingers in Noah's hair. They pull apart, breathing harshly when there's the sound of the kitchen door opening.

"Told you," Luke smiles, touching Noah's jaw. "Not so trusting."

"Good night," Noah mumbles, kissing Luke once more, quick and brief.

Noah watches Luke disappear into his own room before he shuts the door. The floor boards creak as he walks towards the bed. Through the windows he can see the pond and the dock, the stars reflecting off the still water.

It feels like a lifetime ago that he was night swimming with Luke here, the sticky summer heat crackling and dissolving into a different heat, and his first real physical awareness of Luke.

He remembers then what it was like to want someone in a new, completely different way than he'd wanted anyone before. He feels it now, felt it today. It's a rush he hopes he never gets used to.

He steps out of his shoes, undresses and pulls on the old sweats that probably belonged to Luke, pulls Luke's old soccer t-shirt over his head and tries not to think about Luke in his own room, doing the same thing.

He's hard still, his skin buzzing and humming with it, but he can't think of anything more awkward than jerking off while Luke's parents and Grandmother sleep upstairs.

He turns out the light and climbs into bed, rolls to his side to stare out at the midnight sky.

When sleep comes, it's heavy and he slips bonelessly into it.

 

*

 

Noah wakes up sometime after three in the morning, propelled awake by the need to use the bathroom.

He lies still for a second, body slowly coming awake, listening to the stillness and silence around him.

The trees outside his window sway, catching moonlight and throwing it across the walls. It's oddly eerie and reassuring at once.

The floor creaks as he climbs out of bed, one bare foot and then the other. He eases the door open and very nearly frightens himself into a heart attack when he bumps blindly into Luke's chair, stumbling and bracing himself on the arm rest.   
 "Luke," Noah gasps, a hand to his chest, panting as his heart races wildly.

"Noah," Luke breathes, "you scared the heck out of me." Luke fumbles at something behind Noah and then there's a low, pale light filling the narrow hallway.

"Are you okay? What are you doing up?" Noah whispers, careful not to wake anyone.

"I had to use the bathroom, same as you," Luke mumbles, pushing the hair out of his face.

Noah takes him in, his sleepy eyes, his t-shirt that's way too small. They've never been like this together, the vulnerability that comes from being woken up, the intimacy of the middle of the night.

Noah pushes past Luke down the hall to relieve himself and when he comes out of the bathroom Luke's hovering in the doorway of his own room, waiting for Noah.

"Goodnight," Noah mumbles, pushing past Luke towards his own room. But Luke catches the hem of his shirt, pulls Noah towards him.

"Luke, what are you doing?" Noah whispers.

"I need you to help me into bed," Luke says, quietly. Noah knows for a fact that Luke has no problem getting himself into and out of bed but he indulges Luke this once because they're both exhausted and half asleep.

He follows Luke into the dark room, waits while Luke sets the brake on his chair.

"Okay," Luke says, raising his arms. Noah stoops and wraps a bracing arm around Luke's waist, feels Luke wrap his own around Noah's back.

Noah guides Luke to the bed, mostly lifting him since Luke's body isn't up for attempting to use his legs.

Noah's grateful for the darkness. Like this, he can pretend he isn't in Luke's room, he isn't about to help him into bed. It's a kind of intimacy they haven't shared yet.

"Okay?" Noah asks, mouth to the curve of Luke's jaw as he helps Luke sit at the edge of the bed.

"Yeah," Luke breathes, "thank you." Noah watches as Luke lifts first one leg and then the other, gets himself settled beneath the sheets.

"Okay," Noah says. "Goodnight."

But Luke stops him once more, fingers around Noah's wrist. "Noah," he whispers. "Just stay with me for a little while."

Noah feels his heart catch in his throat, skip a beat and settle back down at double time. "Luke," he says. There are dozens of reasons he should say no and go right back to his own room. The least of which is Holden upstairs sleeping.

"Please," Luke says, sliding down into the pillows. "Just for a few minutes."

Noah's giving in before the logic kicks in, sighing in acquiescence and climbing over Luke to settle in beside him, head turned on the pillows.

"Luke, this is a really bad idea," he whispers, as Luke rolls into him, both of them warm despite the cool of the night.

"Yeah," Luke says in agreement, draping his arm over Noah's shoulder and tilting his chin up just slightly. Noah can see him smile in the shadows. "But doesn't it feel really _good_?"

Noah grins despite himself. Flirtatious Luke is almost impossible to say no to, even if Noah feels like he's betraying the trust of Luke's parents and grandmother.

"It's okay," Luke says, his lips a breath away from Noah's. "Everyone's asleep." And he kisses Noah, mouth open, fingers curling in the hair at the nape of Noah's neck.

"Luke," Noah mumbles into the kiss, one last, half-hearted effort to talk some sense into the both of them. If they get caught, they're going to be in trouble beyond words. This is too important to mess up, now that things finally feel like they could be going right between them.

"Just sleeping," Luke mumbles, pressing his face to Noah's throat. Noah can feel him laughing, his shoulders shaking, adorably giddy with it. Noah can feel, too, the shape of Luke's dick against his thigh, feel that he's half hard. Noah goes hot at that, feels his own body begin to respond, despite the sleep haze.

"Yeah right," Noah mutters, "just sleeping," but it's cut off when Luke kisses him, hot and hard.

Noah sighs into it. He feels like he's in a dream, one of his hazy, frantic, sweaty dreams he's had lately. But it feels more real than any dream he's had, and Luke never sounded like this in those dreams, breathless and wrecked.

"Luke," Noah pants into Luke's mouth. "We should stop," he says but he makes no effort to pull away. It was half-hearted at best, anyway. He doesn't want to stop ever. He doesn't know how he's supposed to go back to his dorm room after this, how he's supposed to be content with sneaking kisses on the back porch when he knows what it's like to lie in Luke's bed, to kiss him like this.

Luke ignores him completely, going straight for goal and tucking his fingers in the waist of Noah's sweats.

"Oh god," Noah whispers before he can think better of it. Luke grins against Noah's lips. There's a joke in there to be made but Luke settles for pushing his hand down the front of Noah's pants, hand warm, fingers a little unsure.

Neither of them have any clue what they're doing. Noah has never so much as kissed a guy other than Luke. But it doesn't matter, the two of them together like this, after everything that's happened over the last few weeks, all the odds stacked against them.

Noah shudders, gasps for air, when Luke's fingers curl around him, his palm almost hot against his cock. The angle is weird, a little awkward, but they aren't willing to stop kissing so it'll have to do.

Truthfully, Noah doesn't want to ever have to stop kissing Luke, he thinks he would willingly forfeit an orgasm for the sake of Luke kissing him.

And Luke makes the sweetest noises when they kiss, Noah's learned. It's just a little breathless moan every now and then but it's hot as hell and makes Noah ache a little.

Noah tentatively palms the front of Luke's pajamas, traces the shape of Luke's dick with his fingers and swallows the sounds Luke makes.

Noah feels overheated, panting with the effort of keeping quiet and not coming too soon. He touches his fingers to the skin of Luke's belly, above the waist of his pants, sucks hard on Luke's bottom lip when Luke shudders at the touch.

"Noah, please," Luke gasps, arching his back a little in case Noah's unsure of what he wants. Noah gets it though and gives in, pushes his hand inside Luke's underwear and curls his palm around Luke.

Noah can't believe this is happening now, at all. It feels like too much and not enough all at once. He focuses on the present, the feel of Luke against him, the taste of his lips, the noises he makes. The rest will come later, for now he tries to breathe and live in this.

Noah can feel the way Luke's body shifts, the way his breathing changes, as he gets close. Noah's fingers are wet now, pre-come making the slide of his palm easier, slick. Luke's shifting his hips into it, panting harshly against Noah's mouth. Noah can feel his own orgasm building, not as frantic but slow and heavy through his bones.

Luke fumbles between them to curl his fingers around Noah's wrist. "Noah," he says, an almost plea, "harder."

Noah groans, bites his lip to keep it in. It's hot the way Luke can ask for what he wants even like this. Noah complies, changes the rhythm of his hand. Luke's breathing stutters, stops, as he comes in hot pulses over Noah's fingers, and Noah jerks him through it until Luke's mostly boneless against Noah, trying to catch his breath.

Noah smiles against Luke's cheek, presses a kiss to his open mouth.

Luke's hand is still in Noah's pants and he makes a surprised face like he's just now realizing he's been jerking Noah off. "Sorry," Luke says with a grin.

Luke curls his palm around Noah again, sets up a pace that makes Noah's toes curl. Luke kisses him through it, whispering encouraging, filthy words into his mouth. It takes minutes before Noah's going completely still for a second and coming hot all over Luke's hand.

Their first time together is over embarrassingly quick, Noah decides, panting into Luke's mouth. He'd feel bad about it but he feels too _good_ to be embarrassed.

He feels Luke wipe his sticky fingers on the back of Noah's sweats and he laughs a little, high from an orgasm, high from Luke.

Luke leans in close, mouth seeking out Noah's, and Noah sighs and dissolves into it, his breathing still uneven, both of them panting together.

"Don't go yet," Luke mumbles, curling his fingers in Noah's sweat damp t-shirt. Noah doesn't think he could move if he wanted to, and Luke feels good against him, their legs fitted together.

Noah settles in against the warmth of Luke, despite the fact that they're both a little sweaty now, a little sticky. Luke shifts to his back, lifts his arm for Noah.

"Don't let me fall asleep," Noah whispers, tucking his chin against Luke's shoulder, both of them already drifting off.

 

*

 

sleeps better than he has in a long time, wrapped up in Luke like it's something they do and not a novelty. He doesn't dream, it's just a deep and heavy sleep and when his beeping watch wakes him, he feels well rested.

He opens his eyes to the sun coming up over the pond, light filling Luke's room. There's a beat, something trying to push through the sleep fog, and then he gets it. Luke's room. Shit. Noah bolts upright, panicking. He wasn't supposed to let himself fall asleep and if anyone catches him in here there will be hell to pay for both of them.

His heart's beating frantically but he stops short when he looks at Luke, asleep on his stomach. His face is turned, cheek on the pillow. Last night comes rushing back in a wave of heat as he remembers the way Luke looked, the way he sounded. He's beautiful, and Noah can't believe that happened.

Noah feels his chest get tight and before he can stop himself he's leaning down to press a kiss to Luke's cheek.

He's careful to be as quiet as possible slipping out of Luke's room and into his own. He gets dressed in yesterday's clothes, tries to haphazardly make the bed, and runs into Emma as he's leaving through the kitchen.

"Oh, good morning Noah, dear," she says when she sees him. She's wearing slippers and a house coat, standing over a pot of coffee.

"Morning," Noah says, feeling sheepish.

"I know you have to get to class, but would you like some breakfast before you leave?" Emma asks.

Noah can't think of anything more awkward. Especially given he _just_ left her grandson's bed. "No, thank you, Mrs. Snyder. I have to get home and shower before class. But thank you for letting me sleep here last night."

Emma gives him a warm smile. "You're welcome here anytime, Noah."

Noah turns and flees before she can see the guilt on his face.

 

*

 

Noah has never been in love. There was a girl in high school he thought maybe he could love, but looking back now, he knows it wasn't anything real. He's not sure he even really knows what being in love feels like but when he thinks about Luke, about the way Luke makes him feel, he thinks maybe this is what love is.

Even right after the accident when things were really terrible for Noah, when he was questioning his entire life, Luke was this constant that never shifted, this presence that got him through the first few days of numb shock and the following of deep depression.

It's Noah's guilt over what his father did to Luke that kept Noah away at first. His fear, too, it turns out. His fear that maybe he was falling a little faster, a little harder than he was ready for.

Noah thinks now that there's something a little thrilling about falling hard and fast with someone who's never fallen either.

Noah spends the morning in classes, thinking not of film theory or English literature but of Luke. He woke up next to Luke with a sense of peace he doesn't know that he has ever felt before. It feels almost miraculous, a myth disproved.

Things between him and Luke have only gotten more complicated but Noah doesn't feel anything but peace and sense of happiness at the way things have shifted between them, this wall they seem to be breaking through. Or trying to. And that's an improvement over the last weeks, something worth celebrating, now they're getting somewhere instead of keeping each other at arm's distance.

Noah doesn't remember anything special about the day he met Luke. He was late, his first day of work at the station, and he didn't make the best impression. There was nothing all that memorable about the day, which feels ironic given the way Noah's life has shifted and changed since he met Luke.

It's close to two when Noah finally makes it back to the farm after his classes are done for the day. Holden's coming out of the house when Noah parks his truck in the driveway.

Noah has a blind moment of panic when Holden sees him that somehow he just _knows_. But it's gone just as quick and Noah tries to settle his breathing.

"Noah," Holden says, nodding in the direction of the house. "Physical therapy really wiped Luke out this morning. He's taking a rest but you're welcome to hang out until he wakes up. I'm headed in to town and Lily's at the hotel."

The old wood floors creak and the trees throw shadows on the wall in the afternoon sun as Noah heads to the back of the house, empty and quiet. Noah peeks his head in to Luke's room and feels his breath catch in his throat, this skip of his pulse.

Luke's asleep on his side, turned away from Noah. He's wearing an old pair of cotton sleep pants that fit like maybe he's outgrown them, tight where they stretch across the curve of his ass, low on his hips so there's a few inches of golden expanse of lower back where Luke's t-shirt has ridden up.

Noah pushes into the room, quiet. There's an old, overstuffed arm chair in the corner by the windows and Noah sits there with a textbook in his lap, trying to make up for some of the study time he's lost. Mostly, he watches Luke sleep because there's nothing he'd rather do more.

Luke's hair is getting long, streaked with blonde, a souvenir from the summer sunshine. His face is peaceful in sleep, his mouth relaxed.

Noah's still watching him when Luke opens his eyes. And the smile he gets in reply, this softness in Luke's eyes, pure pleasure in the way he looks at Noah, it makes him feel whole, alive in a way he can't remember ever feeling before.

Noah's at the bed before he knows he's gotten up, climbing up to lie next to Luke because he's terrified that this feeling will slip away before he's gotten used to it.

"I hope I didn't wake you."

"Mm, no," Luke mumbles sleepily, stretching a little and curving in towards Noah. "It's a nice way to wake up," he whispers, eyes dropping to Noah's mouth. He tilts his chin a little and Noah kisses him then, just a soft brush of lips meant in _hello, I've missed you_.

"Noah," Luke whispers. He shifts a little so he and Noah are pressed chest to chest together. "I want to say something," he says, a little unsure. "Don't freak out."

Noah curls his fingers around Luke's, fits their hands together, and waits for Luke.

Luke takes a breath and doesn't look away. "Noah. I think." He pauses for a second. "I'm going to fall in love with you."

It's terrifying. It's exhilarating and completely frightening all at once. Noah doesn't know what to say. He should tell Luke something, anything, but instead he says the first thing that comes to him,

"Me too."

 

[ the end ]


End file.
